


Recon by James Bond

by VarjoRuusu



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Astin Martin DB5, Because I love that car, Cute, Hilariously fluffy, M/M, Oneshot, lots of silly, much cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-05-06 14:09:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5419988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VarjoRuusu/pseuds/VarjoRuusu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Bond! This was meant to be recon!” Q shouted as the boat exploded. </p><p>Nothing ever goes as planned with 007.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Recon by James Bond

"Dear lord, Bond, slow down! I didn't know this car went this fast!" Q screeched as he braced his hands against the dashboard of the Astin Martin DB5.

"Now really, Q," Bond said chidingly. "You did rebuild her. You determined the final engine specifications."

"That doesn't mean I ever expected it to be driven 207 miles per hour!"

Bond just gave him a look that screamed 'you do know this is me, correct?' and Q rolled his eyes.

"You said this would be fun, not that you were going to drive along the Audubon at 210 miles per hour, Bond!" Q's voice squeaked a little on the ten.

"For pete's sake, Q. We're out of the office, can't you call me James?"

Q leveled a steady and steely gaze at the double-0. "Not while the fact that I am in fear of my life is your fault, Bond."

"You need to get out of the office more," Bond said calmly.

“Not with you, 007.”

Bond just chuckled. For the sake of his jumpy Quartermaster, Bond let his foot off the gas and slowed to a reasonable 120 miles an hour. Because really, what was the point of driving on a road with no speed restrictions if not to drive far faster then was strictly advisable?

“Why on earth you thought it was a good idea to drag me along on a reconnaissance mission in Germany, I will never know,” Q was mumbling in the passenger seat. “Why M agreed is even more of a mystery.”

“You agreed as well,” Bond pointed out with a smirk.

“Only because you promised there would be no chance at all we would have to fly,” Q said. “Plus I've always wanted to visit the cathedral in Cologne.”

“The locals call it Köln.”

”Has anyone ever told you that you are the worlds biggest smart mouth?” Q grumbled then winced as his mind played back what he had just said, realizing immediately how it could be interpreted.

“Well-” Bond started.

“No, don't, don't you dare say a word,” the now tomato colored Q growled.

Bond chuckled again and silence fell until they reached their hotel in the center of Cologne, smoothly delivering the DB5 to a waiting valet.

“I'll check us in, shall I?” Bond asked, his voice smug as Q glared at him over the tablet in his hands, duffel bag slung over his shoulder from the trunk. A bellboy had already taken Bond's small suitcase, but Q refused to be parted from his belongings for more then a few seconds so he had kept his duffel and briefcase with him.

Bond just nodded and proceeded to the front desk where he no doubt flirted with the woman tapping away at the computer, not that Q was paying attention.

“10th floor,” Bond said as he walked past Q, forcing the other to follow him to the elevators.

The room turned out to be a two bedroom suite and while Q wanted to protest, loudly, he found that he could go into his bedroom and lock his door securely, so he was perfectly happy. There was an adjoining bathroom that locked from both sides and Q was quite sure he saw a kitchen on his beeline for the bedroom.

It took only moments for him to set up his computers and switch everything he had been doing on his tablet to them. He glanced up when he heard the shower turn on and saw with some irritation that Bond hadn't bothered to close the door, thus giving Q a perfect view of his bare back and low riding jeans. Q was torn between ignoring Bond and perhaps sneaking a bit closer to the partially open door. Then he remembered he was annoyed with Bond for the 210 miles per hour incident and he turned away, settling a pair of headphones over his ears.

He jumped a while later when a hand landed on his shoulder and he turned to find Bond standing there, fully dressed in a clean t-shirt and jeans, with a towel around his neck. Q glared as he removed his headphones and Bond smirked.

“The target owns a yacht that he keeps moored just down river from here,” Q said as he turned away and began typing vigorously on his computer, ignoring Bond entirely. “He's scheduled to be at a party tonight from around seven until late. It's the perfect opportunity for you to sneak aboard and find the records we're looking for.”

“You mean for us to sneak aboard,” Bond said as he ran the towel over his damp hair.

“Certainly not,” Q said. “I'm staying right here.”

“Q, I don't do computers. This man keeps all his records on an encrypted laptop, how am I supposed to recover the data short of stealing the whole thing? Which, may I remind you, will let him know we're onto him and he'll likely dump everything and vanish.”

Q frowned deeply when he realized Bond had a point. Now he understood why M had said yes, but what he didn't understand was why no one had bothered to tell him he was actually being sent into the field, not as back up with slightly closer then normal proximity. He sighed and nodded, closing his computer and shooing Bond out of his room so he could change into a t-shirt and jeans, typical casual tourist wear. He immediately missed his cardigan.

Everything went smoothly, up to the point where one of the security guards came to check on the boat and found three of his companions unconscious, before starting a fistfight with Bond while Q was still trying to decrypt the data and store it on a portable waterproof stick drive.

“Are you done yet?” Bond managed from the floor where he was half pinned by a behemoth twice his size.

“One moment, Bond. Patience is a virtue,” Q smirked, typing the last few keystrokes and extracting the data to the drive.

Bond managed to get the upper hand against the bodyguard and knock him temporarily off kilter, long enough to grab Q and drag him up to the deck before tossing him unceremoniously into the water. The sound of automatic weapons fire filled the air as Bond pulled up a few floorboards, punctured the fuel line and dove off the side. He emerged halfway across the river where Q was hauling himself into a lifeboat that had been moored to another yacht.

“Bond! This was meant to be recon!” Q shouted as the boat exploded, no doubt courtesy of a bullet to the leaking fuel. Bond grinned as he hauled himself into the small motorized lifeboat next to Q.

“Now, Q, where would the fun be in that?” he asked as he pulled off his shirt and wrung it out before pulling it back over his head. Q was sputtering indignantly, his hair soaking wet, covering his glasses and half his face and making him look all around adorable. On the bank the sound of police sirens filled the air as Bond started the small engine and pointed them upriver, away from the remains of the expensive yacht and back toward their hotel.

“You really should try to look on the positive side,” Bond said conversationally as he steered the boat. Q looked up at him through squinted eyes as he tried in vein to clean the water off his glasses.

“There's a positive side?” he asked incredulously.

“It could be winter,” Bond said.

“Keep it up and I'll have your field license revoked,” Q threatened, replacing his glasses and glaring at the other man.

“You wouldn't.”

“You're a menace to humanity, Bond, never mind society, or my health,” Q said as he crossed his arms.

“There's nothing wrong with your health.” To prove his point Bond cut the engine as they passed under a bridge so they slowed to a halt, then reached over and grabbed Q's arm, dragging him across the boat so that he was conveniently straddling Bond's lap, and proceeded to kiss the living daylights out of the indignant Quartermaster.

Q was ashamed to admit that he may have squeaked just a little when Bond dragged him into his lap, but when warm lips met his he sighed and closed his eyes, his anger and irritation fleeing him as he wrapped his arms around the blond agents neck, sliding closer so their chests were pressed together. Bond's tongue pried Q's lips open and Q gasped, running his fingers over Bond's close cut hair in delight. When they pulled apart Bond smirked, thought he was breathing heavily, perhaps the first time Q had seen him the least bit ruffled.

“See, nothing wrong at all,” he said.

“If you think trying to leave me completely winded is going to prove you're not a hazard to my health, you are sorely mistaken,” Q managed, gasping a little.

Bond's eyes narrowed. “Why do you mean _trying_?”

Q smirked and leaned forward to whisper in Bond's ear. “If you want to leave me out of breath, you'll have to try a little harder.”

“That can be arranged,” Bond growled, dragging Q impossibly closer. “All night, if you like.”

“My my, aren't we full of ourselves?” Q asked lightly, raising his eyebrows at Bond. Bond bit his tongue, hard, to keep from saying something so entirely tacky that Q would refuse to speak to him ever again.

“I do my best,” he said instead, grinning as he pressed one more kiss to Q's mouth before restarting the boat and steering them back to the hotel.


End file.
